Hard to Get (2 page)

I grabbed my messenger bag and clattered down the back stairs. The yellow-painted kitchen was full of steam. Mom was standing at the stove, frying scrambled eggs with her glasses all fogged up.

“Oh, Val, is that you?” she said, turning her head in the direction of the doorway. “I can't see a thing. You want toast?”

“Mom, I totally don't have time. I'm late and—” I was interrupted by a familiar beep from outside. “See, there's Becca and Kelly.” I grabbed the orange juice out of the fridge and took a quick chug from the carton. Luckily, Mom was still temporarily blind. I stuck the juice back into the fridge
and bolted out the door and down the porch steps. “Bye!” I bellowed behind me.

Becca's little red BMW purred at the curb, gleaming in the warm early-spring sun. Fall Out Boy was blasting from the open windows. I tossed my messenger bag into the back and climbed in after it.

Becca twisted around in the driver's seat. “God, Val, what have you been doing, beating yourself with a stick all night? You look like leftovers.” She pulled away from the curb at about sixty miles an hour and sped down the street, fishtailing slightly.

Becca, on the other hand, looked like she'd been up since five. Her pink button-down shirt was ironed and her khaki shorts actually had creases down the front. She shook her head and her shiny black hair caught the morning sun. I scowled at her and tried to stuff a few strands into my bun with my fingers.

Kelly, her tan, muscular legs propped on the dashboard, whacked Becca on the arm. “You are so mean! I'm sure Val does not look—” She turned around and glanced at me. “Wow. You do look like leftovers.”

I slumped down and rested my head on the back of the seat. “Hey, give me a
break. I'm functioning on like two hours of sleep here. I was up all night reliving the humiliation of the year, courtesy of David Strauss.”

Kelly nodded sympathetically, tying her blond-streaked hair into a ponytail. “You need to forget him. He's slime. You did the right thing dumping him like that after seeing him with Taylor.”

“Right!” Becca chimed in. She slammed on the brakes, just managing not to rear-end the car in front of her. “Move on. He's totally not worth thinking about for one more second.”

“Yeah, I know,” I mumbled.

In the front seat, Kelly was rummaging in the giant sports bag on her lap. “Damn!” she said, emerging from the depths and blowing her hair out of her eyes. “I forgot my goggles. Becca, go back.”

“Are you kidding?” Becca said as she flicked on the turn signal. “It's ten minutes until first bell and we've been late once already this week. No way.”

“I had to borrow Madeline's yesterday. She's going to be mad if I mooch off her again,” Kelly whined.

I stared out the window at the manicured
lawns and neat frame houses gliding by. Kelly played about eighteen hundred sports, so lost goggles and ripped volleyball shorts were standard fare during the daily rides to school. My thoughts drifted. Of course Becca was right—I
should
forget Dave. I'd dropped him out of my life, but it wasn't so easy just to drop him out of my mind. I'd never been humiliated like this before. I'd never even been dumped.

Becca broke into my thoughts. “I posted those pictures from the 10K last weekend, by the way.”

“Oh good, we can see Val trying to run on her twisted ankle,” Kelly said.

“Hey, I had to finish, right?” I said, perking up momentarily. Even in excruciating pain, I'd still managed to place in my age group.

“You were crazy!” Becca told me. “I can't believe you didn't just stop. I mean, come on—three miles with an injury?”

I grinned. “
You
can't believe I didn't stop? You should know me better than that after ten years of friendship.”

“Yeah, Becca,” Kelly said. “Remember who you're talking to. The freaky girl who is completely incapable of quitting anything
she's started? The one who has to be the best at
everything
?”

“Not everything,” I replied. “Just almost everything. I wasn't perfect at going out with Dave, right?”

“
He
cheated on
you
!” Becca exclaimed. “Don't start blaming yourself, or I'm never going to talk to you again. I don't know why you're stressing so much about him anyway. I mean, I'll admit, you guys
were
cute together, but it's not like you have to worry about finding another guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, climbing from the car and hoisting my messenger bag over my head and shoulder.

“You guys want to go for subs at lunch today?” Kelly asked just before we parted ways at the school entrance.

“Definitely,” Becca replied.

I nodded. “Yeah. I need something to look forward to this morning.”

Becca put her arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “Don't worry, chick,” she said. “You'll find a new boyfriend by the end of the day today.”

I forced a smile and headed off to my locker. Becca was right, of course. Dave and I had had a good thing, but he turned out
to be a jerk, and now it was over. Time to just move on. But for some reason, the thought of finding someone new just made me feel like running out of the school screaming.

I headed down the long row of lockers, each with its combination lock hanging neatly from the latch, my thoughts clanging around in my head.
If you don't want a boyfriend, then what
do
you want, Val?
I asked myself as I reached number 381. Automatically, I reached for my lock and started spinning the knob. My brain took a minute to compute that something was off. I looked down at my hand. The lock was already open. And my locker door was cracked about an inch. I froze. I looked left and right. The hallway was deserted. I tried to peer into the crack without touching the door, but all I could see was the dark interior. My heart was beating a little too quickly. Did bombs ever get planted in high school lockers?

This was ridiculous. I couldn't stand here all day, staring at my locker. The bell was going to ring any minute. A few kids trickled into the hallway at the far end. Taking some weak comfort from their presence, I gingerly opened the door.

Several large soft objects tumbled off the shelf, landing at my feet. I jumped back and stared in disbelief. Instead of the usual jumble of books, scarves, sunglasses, and random pieces of paper, the entire locker was crammed with stuffed animals, red and pink boxes of candy, and cards in big pastel envelopes.

I bent down and retrieved a stuffed polar bear from the floor. A little red tag dangled from his arm.
Hey, Val, what's up? I figured out your lock combination—1-13-94—your birthday. It's my new favorite date. Hey, let's hang out sometime. Doug.
The hallway was starting to fill up. I edged closer to the locker door, trying to shield its contents from the stares of people passing nearby. A blond girl spun her own combination a few feet away and looked over at me curiously.

I shot her a weak smile and did my best to kick some of the stuffed animals back into the locker. I set the polar bear down and picked up a dog wearing a cowboy hat. He stared at me with benign button eyes. I extracted a card from the envelope strung around his neck.
From Justin.
I placed the dog next to the polar bear and pulled out a stack of candy boxes of various shapes and sizes,
flipping through them as if they were a stack of playing cards. Heart-shaped box of truffles from Travis Gosdin, chocolate-covered cherries from Brian North, big bag of M&M's with val printed on them from someone named Randolph, Whitman's Sampler from Jason Goldfarb. Oh my God, this was just flat-out creepy. Is this what it feels like to have a stalker, I wondered? Or a lot of stalkers?

The warning bell rang. I snapped out of my trance. I had to get rid of this stuff before anyone saw it and thought I'd been flashing people for Mardi Gras beads or something. A jumbo-size trash can with a fresh garbage bag stood empty just a few feet away. I thought about dragging it over, but the second bell chimed and the halls began to empty. No time. I started cramming everything back into the locker instead. I was in the midst of trying to close the door while holding the stuff in with my foot when two people came strolling down the hall toward me. Oh, joy of joys—it was Dave and Taylor,
holding hands
and looking like Longbranch High's Cozy Couple of the Year.

Don't look, don't look
. I concentrated on shutting the locker door, but it wouldn't close.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see two sets of shoes approaching—Dave's Reef flip-flops and Taylor's white strappy wedges. I shoved the locker as hard as I could, but something was blocking the door. I looked down. A furry little arm was poking out the bottom. The shoes stopped beside me.

Slowly, I raised my eyes and was hit smack in the face by Taylor's best beauty-pageant grin. “Hi, Val!” she chirped.

Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. I offered a tight little smile in return. “Hi. Hi,
Dave
,” I said.

Dave cleared his throat. “Uh, hey, Val,” he said uncomfortably. His face was patchy with red and I could see him trying to squirm his hand out of Taylor's. No luck though—she had it in an impressive death grip.

Taylor wasn't done turning the knife yet. “So, what's up, Val?” she burbled.

I gritted my teeth. “Nothing. Just trying to get to class.” I gave the locker door another futile shove.

“I think there's something stuck in there,” Dave said, oh-so-helpfully. He pointed to the bottom of the locker, where the furry arm
still stuck out like part of the world's smallest murder victim.

“Oh yeah.” I managed to sound surprised. “I don't know what that is.” I held the locker door shut with my foot. If I let go, it would spring open and reveal the bizarre collection inside. On the other hand, would that be such a bad thing? At least he'd see that I was in demand. I wavered and, for an instant, released my hold on the locker latch.

“Here, I can get it.” Dave stepped forward and grasped the latch. I realized what he was going to do.

“No, Dave, don't, I can—” I tried to yank his hand away, but it was too late. Dave opened the locker, and once again, stuffed animals and candy boxes sprayed all over the hallway.

There was a brief, horrible pause as the three of us surveyed the carnage. Taylor's eyes widened. Dave's forehead was wrinkled as if he were trying to understand a really, really hard math problem.

“What's all this stuff, Val?” Taylor bent down and picked a red stuffed heart off her sandal, turning it over in her hand as if it were an archeological specimen.

I summoned my courage. This was a test of my inherent toughness, kind of like my pioneer ancestors crossing the Rocky Mountains in the dead of winter and running out of food and having to eat one another by the end.

I tossed my head. “Oh, nothing.” My voice held just the right hint of careless airiness. “Just some presents from a few …
friends
.” I picked up the cowboy-hat-wearing dog and held him next to my cheek lovingly.

“I had no idea you were so popular,” Taylor cooed. I resisted the urge to put my hand on her face and push her away. Dave stood by her side, his hands hanging like hams, looking from one of us to the other.

The warning bell chimed again. “Well, I've got to get to class,” I said casually. I waited until they had retreated down the hall, then shoved the stuff inside, slammed the locker door, and rushed down the hall, in my haste almost ricocheting off the last row of lockers. I could feel the blood pounding in my forehead as I slid into my seat in English.
A week and a half! Whatever happened to a decent period of mourning?

The classroom was filled with the soothing rustle of paper and notebooks and the
low hum of people getting ready for the discussion on
Hamlet
. I took out my phone to turn it off for class, glanced at the screen, and then looked more carefully. Did that say
twenty-five
texts? I scrolled through the list fast. Matt, Rob, Aaron, Mike. Did I want to hang out; get some coffee; watch movies some night; come to a house party; hey, there's a barbeque this weekend, did I want to go?

I clicked my phone shut and laid my head on the desk. What was the deal? I mean, a couple of invites, maybe, I could understand, since everyone knew about the breakup by now. But twenty-five? And all the stuff in the locker? When had my life become so weird?

“All right, everyone, let's get started,” Mr. Fleming said from the front of the room. I focused my eyes, temporarily distracted from the drama that was my life. Mr. Fleming was new at Longbranch, and already the entire female population had a crush on him. There was a rumor going around that he was gay, but who cared when he looked like he belonged in an Abercrombie catalog, not sitting sideways at a stupid high school desk, shuffling papers, like he was now?